


Midnights at the Manor

by emansil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emansil/pseuds/emansil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco’s current life is not at all what he would have expected it to be. His mother’s illness and his father’s own devastating problem, filled Draco’s days with worry and anxiety. It was Harry Potter’s presence at the manor during the midnight hours that made all the difference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnights at the Manor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alafaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alafaye/gifts).



> Immense and forever gratitude to capitu for her encouragement, support and above all patience as I struggled to find the right direction and focus for this fic. Truly, she deserves much of the credit for the good stuff and none of the blame for the bad. And as always to my longstanding and forever forgiving beta wmrsweasleydo, a massive Thank you!

Draco pulled his cloak tighter around him, as he stood on the balcony waiting. The temperature was dropping and his warming spell was weakening. The smell of snow, or possibly sleet, in the air was strong enough to almost taste. He stuck out the tip of this tongue to catch whatever moisture he could. Of course there was none, but there would be. Before the night was over the grounds of his ancestral home would be covered with a blanket of freshly fallen snow, soft and billowing. 

The clouds raced across the sky, playing hide and seek with the moon while he waited. A sharp current of magic in the Wards alerted him, and Draco, at last, allowed himself to begin to relax, releasing the cares of his day. A sharp _Crack_ and Harry stumbled before him, smiling a greeting. Then a bemused expression came over his face and the smile morphed into laughter. “Eager much, are we?” 

Confused, Draco scowled, until he realized, his tongue was still sticking out. Deciding to play along, he lisped, “Well, are you going to leave me to stand here with my tongue getting frostbite, or are you going to warm it up?” 

“Warm it up, definitely. I’ve plans for that tongue. Frostbite could prove detrimental to those plans.” Harry leaned forward and sucked on Draco’s tongue, drawing it deep into his mouth. His own tongue reaching out to stroke and caress the warmth back in.

The heat from Harry’s kiss ran through Draco’s body and he shivered with pleasure. Harry misunderstood and broke the kiss and placed his hands around Draco’s face. “Are you cold?” he asked. “We could go inside.” 

Draco shook his head. “No, not cold, just happy you’re here at last. I’ve missed you.” He then cringed, realizing how needy and pathetic that sounded. But that was how he felt whenever Harry was not around—needy and pathetic. He’d come to depend on Harry so much, in such a short amount of time. 

Unexpectedly, a snow flake landed on Harry’s nose, white against the tip, red from the cold. Draco reached out and tasted it with the tip of his tongue. Harry shivered and found a snowflake of his own to taste that had just landed on Draco’s cheek. The snow, at last had arrived.

The kiss that followed was warm and familiar, the kiss of two people who had kissed enough times to be at ease and comfortable with one another; but never blasé or bored. The snow fell thickly around them, wet and heavy. Arms wrapped around the other’s waist, they leaned on the balcony railing and watched it fall, quickly covering the grounds of the estate. 

“Are you sure you’re warm enough?” Harry asked.

Draco thought for a moment, “Sure, a heavy wool cloak, complete with moisture repellent, and relatively adequate warming spells, not to mention you. You do wonders for keeping me warm. Why?”

“Let’s go for a walk. I’ve always loved walking in the snow, and I’ve yet to have that pleasure with you.” 

Only three months had passed since Harry had brought Lucius back to the manor. After finding him wandering the back roads of Wiltshire where Lucius had crashed the car he’d stolen from the Muggle family that lived the next estate over. How and why in the name of Dante’s seven circles of hell had Lucius thought he could drive a Muggle car was beyond Draco’s understanding. Draco had been so relieved to have his father home safe, he’d temporarily lost his mind. He’d invited Potter in for a drink, and that had been the beginning. 

“I’d love to go for a walk with you, but wouldn’t you rather,” Draco wagged his eyebrows suggestively and slanted a glance over his shoulder at the bed behind them, “first?”

“Usually, I’d say yes, but not tonight. There’ll be plenty of time for that when we return. I want to walk before the snow gets much deeper. So beautiful,” Harry said, looking both at Draco and the snow-covered, gently sloping hills of Wiltshire. “Come on let’s go.”

They hurried inside, grabbed hats and gloves and scarfs. Harry charmed the bottoms of their shoes for more traction and Draco added a moisture impervious charm as well. 

As they slipped out the front door, Draco rechecked the wards and grabbed the alarm for the front door he carried with him at all times. If his father broke through either of them, Draco needed to know immediately. For one so old Lucius could move as fast as the thirteen year old boy he now thought himself to be. 

For months no one outside of Draco and the house-elves had known of his father’s mental collapse. Well, his mother knew, but sick herself, she was unable to do anything but worry. Only it wasn’t a mental collapse. Not really. There was nothing wrong with Lucius’s mind. It was perfect, that is perfect for whatever age his father’s mind now convinced him he was. Draco had carried this burden alone. 

And then Harry Potter had found Lucius and learned the truth. He’d started a one-man campaign to get to the bottom of what had caused the situation. Harry had told Draco recently that he thought he might be on to something, but wouldn’t say what it was until he was sure. 

Harry took his hand and they began walking. Soon Harry’s hair was covered with snowflakes, drops of white against the black of his unruly waves. Draco’s breath caught and his heart swelled; overwhelmed by it all. For the midnight hours—from eleven pm to six am every night---Harry Potter belonged to Draco. 

At six Harry returned to the house he and Ginny still shared, as roommates only, to shower and dress for work. He and Ginny Weasley, as a couple, had ended long before Draco came into the picture. They were friends and nothing more, Harry had told him. After Harry left, Draco would make a pot of tea and carry it up to his mother, along with her medicine, and check the machine. Each and every day began the same way. 

He had once asked Harry if Ginny knew about him. Harry’s answer had been, “She knows I leave every night to be with someone, and that I come back some seven hours later. I think it’s safe to say she knows I’m going to see someone. I can tell her if you want me to.”

Harry probably had his own reasons for not sharing. Draco had never asked what they were; it didn’t matter if their relationship was kept secret. It wasn’t that either of them was ashamed of it, or the other. It was simply that it was theirs alone, no one else needed to know.

He took one of the caps from his pocket and pulled it down over Harry’s head. “I think you could use this. Although, I do love the way the snow looks in your hair.” Harry’s glasses were spotted with melted snow, as usual. “Harry I can’t believe a wizard as powerful as you still can’t perform a simple impervious spell on your glass.” He righted them and went to put them back on Harry’s nose. 

Harry snatched hold of his hand, stopping him. “I can, I just like it better when you do it.” Harry stroked Draco’s check with the back of his hand. “It makes me feel cared for.” 

The git still hadn’t got over the feeling of being unloved from his childhood. Draco cursed the Muggle family that had done this to Harry. He drew Harry to him and kissed him. Soon things were heating up rather nicely and Draco, for one, was ready to take this to a more comfortable not to mention warmer and dryer location. When, like one hit with a stunning spell, Harry fell to the ground pulling Draco down with him. Laughter bubbled up out of Harry. 

“Harry you idiot. You’ll get soaking wet. At least let me…” Draco stopped laughing and then fell back on his own arse in the snow, stunned. _Fuck, it was wet. And cold!_ Harry was performing the strangest movements. “What the bloody fuck are you doing?” Draco asked, wondering if Harry always behaved this way in the snow, and rather hoping he didn’t. 

Flat on his back, Harry moved his arms and legs back and forth and up and down repeatedly. It was several long seconds before he stopped. Propped on his elbows, Harry lifted his head, grinning, and gave Draco a questioning gaze. “I’m making snow angels, of course. Come, we can make them together.”

Draco thought perhaps Harry had lost his mind. “Snow angels? Don’t think for a moment I’m lying down in the freezing snow.”

“Oh, yes you are.” Harry reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling Draco down. It might still be wet but the kisses Harry gave him, soon had Draco forgetting the cold. 

In no time, Draco too, was flat on his back, flailing his arms and legs in as idiotic a manner as Harry, all the while laughing like a loon. He was wet and cold and acting a complete nutter and absolutely loving it. Only with Harry, in the magic of the midnight hours, did Draco ever feel this free. When both his parents were asleep and safe inside the manor he could let go. 

Once they’d completed the circle of angels, they lay in the snow together, holding hands and looking up at the night sky. The stars, like the moon, were mostly hidden by the clouds that hung thick with moisture above them. The snow wasn’t going to end any time soon. 

Silence deepening around them, Draco sensed there was more on Harry’s mind; he felt no need to push. Harry would share when he was ready. But underneath Draco’s joy, the tendrils of his usual despair began to wind their way into his thoughts. The anxiety building, Draco needed to be up and moving. He stood, pulling Harry up with him; their walk resumed. 

“We raided Wheezes today. You were right; the _Fountain of Youth_ potion you found hidden in the back of your father’s desk did come from their shops. The sample we found had been tampered with,” Harry said quietly and with no inflection. He could have been discussing what he’d had for his noon meal. 

Stunned, Draco halted and looked at Harry. “You mean it was a Weasley that’s to blame for my father’s return to childhood?” 

“Not a Weasley, at least not one by birth. We think it was Angelina, George’s wife.”

“Angelina? What does she have against our family? Why would she want to turn my father into a …Fuck—Merlin only knows when and for how long this de-aging will go on.” Would his father one day be like an infant, unable to care for himself at all? It was this question that kept Draco up most nights, along with his constant fear for his mother. 

“We don’t know if it was on purpose or not. She’s denying she had anything to do with it.” They walked on a few more paces. The temperature was really dropping. “We don’t think it was just your father that was affected. About twenty five bottles of that batch were sold, but no one has come forward or complained.” Harry’s voice remained soft and low, soothing. Draco was in no mood for soothing. 

“Does the bitch at least have an antidote? Something to reverse it, at least halt its progression? Did she have a fucking clue what she was doing?” His voice loud and shrill, sounding like some sort of backwater fishwife selling mackerel and herring by the kilo, shattered the stillness. He breathed in deeply, focused on calming. 

Harry waited until Draco’s breath was nice and slow, in and out, rhythmically to the count of—in: one, two, three, four, five, and pause. And—out: five, four, three, two, one, and pause. Repeat. The breathing exercises and Harry were what kept Draco sane most days. 

Harry knew this and understood. “Better now? Panic attack, all gone?” he asked. “I’m sorry, but we don’t know much yet. We know George is not involved. Angelina is also claiming her own innocence, but who else could it be? She’ll be questioned under Veritaserum tomorrow and then we’ll see. Once we know who, we should be able to convince them to give us more information about the potion. It should help to find an antidote, or at the least a way to stop the regression. I know how hard you’ve been trying.”

Harry didn’t wait for Draco’s response. There was nothing more to be said. Draco would do anything to bring back the father he had admired so much. Even when he’d no longer deserved that admiration. 

Harry had never explained how he’d known Lucius was in distress, or how he’d found him. Only that the Auror department had received word that there was a wizard in Wiltshire who was in distress and in danger of exposing Muggles to the use of magic. The same way Aurors and Ministry Obliviators always knew when and where they might be needed. As it was late at night and in low populated region, Harry had volunteered to go alone. To Draco’s undying gratitude, no one else knew who the wizard in distress had been. 

“Are you ready to head back now? I think my arse is getting frostbite from the shenanigans in the snow. I’d very much like for you to warm it for me,” Draco murmured, his lips nibbling at Harry’s neck. ”Six am is only four hours away.” 

***

The weather had not improved during the past twenty four hours. The snow from yesterday had turned to frozen rain, transforming the landscape into a glittering yet deadly beauty. Soon, it would become too much for the already over laden branches and they would begin to crack and break. A power outage was possible. Draco could not afford to let that happen. His mother needed the power to survive. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to ease the throbbing in his head. Worry over the weather and its possible consequences as well anxiety over Lucius’s latest regression had built to a massive tension headache since morning. Draco had spent most of the day rescuing his 51 year old, 13 stone, 6’1” father from continually falling off the railing of the main staircase, Lucius insisted on sliding down, time after time. Like some buggering, blessed five-year old, he now was. Lucius had cried like one as well. And Draco had discovered earlier in the day that he was completely out of pain potion. 

The two fingers of Scotch he poured couldn’t hurt, he thought as he toasted the empty space around him, “Happy fucking Christmas Eve,” and tossed it back in one gulp, anticipating the usual pleasant warmth that teased at the edges of a burn. 

“Happy fucking Christmas to you too,” Harry said from behind Draco, startling him. The pleasant warmth turned into a massive coughing fit. 

Harry patted him on the back a few times; waited until Draco could breathe again and handed him a glass of water. “You look like you’ve had a bit of a day. Everything okay?”

“No, it is not bloody okay. And no I don’t want to talk about it; so don’t ask. What the fuck are you doing coming in that way? You about scared the life out of me.”

“I stopped to introduce Kreacher to Conrad. “

“Kreacher? Why are you introducing Kreacher to my house-elf? Conrad’s going to think I complained about his services to you.” 

“And so you have, but that’s not why. I’ve someplace special I want us to go tonight. I know you won’t leave unless you know your parents are well looked after. Not that Conrad isn’t perfectly capable, understand; I figured extra help wouldn’t hurt.” 

Harry poured his own glass of scotch. What was going on? Harry hated the taste of scotch. 

“Well, go on. Go get dressed. It’s really cold out so dress warmly. I’m not sure how long we’ll be. I’d suggest long johns.” Harry said as he sipped the scotch, making faces all the while. 

“Long johns? Out? Potter, have you lost your mind? It’s bloody fucking freezing out there. I’m not leaving this house.” In the distance, the slow creaking and then sharp crack as another branch succumbed to the weight and crashed to the ground could be heard. He’d have a massive mess to deal with when this was all over. “Besides I expect the power to go at any time.”

“Potter?” Harry barked in laughter, sending Draco from tolerably miffed, to full blown fury. “Someone really is in a mood.” 

At that point, Draco began to worry about the continued existence of the bottle of scotch as he was seriously contemplating slinging it against the marble fireplace. And soon. 

Draco closed his eyes and tried his breathing exercises. Only all they accomplished was to make him want to sling the bottle in the direction of Potter’s head as it sailed towards the mantle. After all, he was standing right in front of it. It wouldn’t be that hard to catch them both. This day had been the worst he’d had in ages. And now Harry, his salvation, his touchstone to sanity and all that was still good and worthy, was laughing at him. He couldn’t deal with anything else; Draco began to tremble with panic. 

Fingers warm and solid wrapped around his wrist, grounding him. Draco opened his eyes. 

Harry, calm and loving, stared back at him; not speaking, just holding onto his wrist. Once again the support Draco needed to halt his mentally climbing to the top of the tallest tower and flinging himself off. 

Shortly Harry said, “I’m sorry I was so flippant. I know how hard this storm and the weather are for you; how worried you’d be. That’s the reason I brought Kreacher. I brought along a small generator.”

“A what?”

“A generator, it’s what Muggles use in emergency, in case the power goes out. Kreacher is familiar with its use. Now, please go and put on some warmer clothes. We really need to be going. I know you’ll enjoy this, but we don’t have much time.” 

Ten minutes later Draco returned dressed head to toe in the warmest clothes he owned. After another ten minutes conversation with the two house-elves pressing upon them how vital it was to keep an eye out for any decrease in power. As well as watching out for Lucius who had de-aged another four years over night. 

Harry’s patience must have worn thin, as he opened the door and held it open, cold air rushing in to the manor. When even the house-elves were shivering, Draco knew it was time to go. He followed Harry outside, and they began to walk, careful of the treacherous, ice-covered terrain. 

The peacocks—except one, Prometheus, his father’s favourite, and always a problem—were sleeping soundly. Harry and Draco both jumped when Prometheus ran from behind the building and straight at Harry. Draco stopped it with a glare and a one word command, laughing as Harry returned sheepishly from where he’d just scampered. 

“I can’t believe you still keep those bloody things,” Harry said, catching his breath. “They’re a bloody menace. They should be served up stuffed for Christmas dinner, especially that one.” He and Prometheus starred daggers at one another. “He could feed a small village.”

It was true; Prometheus and the other peafowl hated Harry, which if he was completely honest, gave Draco quite the chuckle. “Lucius likes to chase them; he’d miss them. And mother enjoys watching them in the garden whenever she feels well enough to be out. I have to keep them for them.” 

Soon they reached the rise of the northern hill. “Give me your hand,” Harry said. 

“Why?”

“I told you. There’s someplace I want to take you.”

He turned questioning eyes toward Harry who only said, “Trust me. Please.”

Draco felt a smile start to creep on to his face. He did trust Harry. More than he’d ever trusted anyone since he was a small child and his parents had yet to break that trust. It was Christmas Eve and Harry wanted to share something special with him.

He gave Harry his hand and with a _Crack_ they Apparated onto a small and darkened mews. Salisbury, Draco’s favourite cathedral, towered above and in front of them. Even in the darkness the candles that lined the walls made the stain glass come alive. Faintly from within came the sound of many voices raised in celebration. He had once told Harry, how much he’d loved listening to the choir at Christmas. It had been the music that he’s always gloried in. Harry must have remembered and wanted to bring him back here. Draco wanted to be closer, to hear better. Together, he and Harry walked around the large building searching for the best location to hear the music of the season. 

Too soon, it was over. The music stopped and the Benediction followed. The doors opened wide and peopled streamed outside, laughing and calling out to one another, “Happy Christmas, Many returns of the day”, and invitations to come for drinks after the holiday meal.

His family used to have such celebrations. Not so much anymore, not since his father’s time served in Azkaban. Lucius’s supporters were not so plentiful now. A fact for which Draco was truly grateful; all things considered. 

“I think it’s safe to stay a few more minutes, let’s go take a look around. Maybe do some window shopping or enjoy the Christmas decorations,” Harry suggested as they walked away from the cathedral. “I know you decided not to decorate this year, but I thought you might enjoy looking at them.” 

In the earlier hours, Christmas lights would have sparkled from the shops and the street and houses along the way, which he would have enjoyed. “Harry, it’s too late, all the lights will have all been turned off. We won’t be able to see.” 

“True. But we have a secret weapon.” Harry’s grin lit up his face, causing Draco to grin in return.

“We’re wizards. There’s the thing called magic we can do. I can turn the lights on with my wand. Come on let’s go. It won’t take long.”

The walk back to the Apparition point was slow and quiet. The decorations had been lovely, and as they drew closer to returning home Draco’s anxiety rose. What would he find when they got back to the manor? He had to be prepared for any possibilities. 

Draco’s failure to be prepared in August, when Lucius had ‘borrowed’ the car, had been what brought Harry Potter to the manor that first time and subsequently into Draco’s life. Four nights after bringing Lucius home, Potter had returned to the manor to check on Lucius. It was obvious that Potter knew something wasn’t quite right with Draco’s father. He’d also admitted to having enjoyed that first evening with Draco. 

Four hours later, when he’d left, Harry Potter had kissed Draco good-night. Another three more nights passed before Draco saw or heard from Potter again. He was about to climb the walls from the waiting. Finally in the early morning hours of the fourth night, Harry had returned. 

He’d arrived just in time to witness one of Draco’s weekly emotional break-downs. Harry had learned of Narcissa’s illness at that time. He’d held Draco, stroking his back, while Draco had raged at the unfairness of it all. Once Draco was emotionally spent, Harry had kissed him until Draco was hard and panting. It had been so long since anyone’s hands but his own had touched him. He hadn’t even had to ask; Potter had stuck his hand down Draco’s pants and with a few strokes, hard and quick had quickly brought Draco to climax. And fuck, if it wasn’t exactly what Draco needed.

Harry’s visits became more and more frequent and lasted longer. By month’s end, Harry was there every night. Two months from that first visit, he was staying all night. And each night Harry knew exactly what Draco needed, and had made sure he had it. Lucius grew to accept Harry’s presence. Draco’s mother, whenever she felt well enough to talk, never failed to ask about Harry, when Draco took her her morning tea, and turned off the machine for the day. 

These memories tumbled through his brain one after the other, tripping and stumbling over one another each trying for center place in his thoughts. Without realizing it, he gripped Harry’s hand tighter and tighter, until Harry’s small squeak of discomfort brought it home to him.

“Draco? Could you please stop squeezing my hand so tight? You’re starting to cut off the circulation.” Harry said with a bit of a grimace, followed swiftly by a grin. As Draco took Harry’s face in his hands, cupped his cheeks and brought him forward for a kiss. He kissed Harry long and slow and deep, thanking Harry for insisting that he come with him tonight. So Draco could hear the music he loved so much, walk on snow and ice covered streets, hold hands in public as they examined, explained, and then exclaimed over the different merchandise Muggle shops had on offer.

“Are you okay to Apparate back to the manor grounds?”

The calm vanished and panic flew over Draco. Wasn’t Harry coming with him? Why did he have to be okay to Apparate? He wouldn’t be alone, would he? Not on Christmas Eve. 

He jerked back a step, these fears shooting from his mouth in rapid fire succession. And as each one did, he told himself that he was fine; he didn’t need Harry. Harry Potter could go fuck himself. The Devil’s Snare of fear and rejection, once more fed and nourished, again began to grow and wrap around his heart, threatening to strangle him. 

“Draco! Stop!” Harry’s anguished cries cut through Draco’s panic. “That’s not it.” Harry had watched this happen too many times. Watched him go deep into himself and begin to throw up the prickly exterior Draco used so others would not know, could not see, how easily wounded he could be. It had been Harry who had first pointed out that this was what Draco did; Harry who had understood; Harry who had stayed through it all.

“Of course I’m coming with you. I just meant, if you didn’t feel up to it, we could sit here for a while. That’s all.” He grabbed Draco and turned him towards him. “Why would you think I wouldn’t want to be with you? Our time together isn’t long enough as it is. Besides,” Harry waggled his eyebrows a bit, but then turned serious. “You promised to plow my arse so hard, I’d have to eat Christmas dinner at the Weasley’s standing up. You don’t think I could leave without that, do you?” 

As he spoke Harry’s wand swished and flicked and words of the spell slid from his mouth in between his words of reassurance. When he finished, two cushy chairs sat side by side. . 

Draco looked at the two chairs in dismay. “Two chairs? You thought two chairs were the answer?”

“Do you have a better solution?” 

Draco rolled his eyes and with a quick swish of his wand, the two chairs were transformed into a sofa perfectly sized for two. As one they moved together and sat down, each curled up next to the other. The sleeting had stopped and the clouds were, at last, moving on.

As Draco began to relax, questions he’d been thinking about returned to him. “Did the Weasley wife confess on her own, or did you have to beat it out of her? Did she give you the antidote?” 

“Neither. No beating of suspects allowed in the new and improved Auror Department.” Harry paused and Draco waited impatiently for the answer. “We interviewed her, but no antidote. It wasn’t her,” Harry said at last.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure. She was questioned under the strongest dosage of Veritaserum you can legally give to a suspect. Ron and George are both angry that I pushed for so much. Christmas at the Weasley should be interesting,” Harry muttered laughingly under his breath, “but the bottom line remains, we still don’t know who or why the potion was tainted. We don’t even know if it was intentional, or just some horrible accident.” 

“Well fuck! I thought we were going to at least have someone to question,” Draco replied. Although, after the day he’d had, he was thinking more along the lines of torture. “Are you still going? To the Weasley’s, I mean.” 

“Sure. Why not? It’s not like it’s the first, nor will it be the last, time one or more of them have been angry with me. They’re family though, or the closest I have to family. And family learns to get past the anger, especially if Molly Weasley is cooking Christmas dinner.” 

After some moments of quiet, Harry turned to him and asked, “How was your mother today? You were very tense when I got there tonight. You know, you’re going to have to talk about it eventually.” 

Draco didn’t say anything, wasn’t sure what to say. His mother had been at her worst this morning; he could only shrug his shoulders in answer. 

“I keep telling you. Hermione could help; if you’d only let her. She won’t tell anyone about Lucius, if she ever even found out about his predicament. She’s not allowed to share her patients’ secrets.” 

“I’ve been thinking about that. I guess it’s time to give it a try. I don’t know what else to do. Mother told me today, that she’d rather be dead than to continue like this. Harry, what am I supposed to say to something like that? It’s my mother.”

Harry enveloped Draco in his arms and just held him. “Do you want me to fire-call her tonight?” he questioned softly. “She’ll come, I know.” 

“It’s three am, she’ll be asleep.” 

“I doubt it, and if she is, it doesn’t matter. She’ll come, if I ask her to.” 

“If you don’t mind, I don’t think mother can wait much longer. We should go back now, as well.” 

***

Harry had not been able to reach Hermione through fire-call as quickly as he’d thought, not getting through until near dawn. Hermione had come immediately, apologising to them both for having not been available. She had blushed; it was pretty obvious what she and the Weasel had been up to. 

Once there, she’d spent over an hour observing and talking with his mother, running tests and checking the machine Narcissa used nightly. Draco had to give it to her, the witch was thorough. 

She also put to rest his fears about potential gossip. “Draco, I know from Hogwarts, and from what Harry has said that this is hard for you. You don’t want this to get out; you’re a very private person. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

 _What Harry said?_ “What did he tell you?” Draco interrupted, he was furious that Harry would have told her his secrets. Otherwise, why would she even have brought it up?

“What did who tell me? Harry? He told me nothing. Only that Narcissa was ill, and that he thought I might be able to help. That was all, except that you were concerned about confidentiality. I promise you, the Healer patient bond forbids me to break your trust. Please feel free to share any doubts or fears or anything you wish about your mother, or whatever else might be causing you difficulty. I can tell you this; your mother is very ill. It’s a lot for one person to handle alone. I’m here to assist in any way I can.” 

Draco didn’t speak, just nodded and walked her to the Floo. “I’ll take the results of all the tests I ran, both magic and Muggle, and run them through more tests and see what I come up with.” She stopped for a moment, turning to look him in the eye. “You do understand, she’s in the final stages of kidney failure, right?”

Draco nodded; he had known that for a while. The Muggle Healer who had first suggested the dialysis machine had said as much. What he didn’t know was if there was anything else that could be done.

“Okay, that’s good. I’ll see what I can find out. I should have an answer in a day or two.” She reached out, gave him a quick yet awkward hug, and stepped into the Floo. 

Draco went back to his room and crawled in bed next to Harry, who woke instantly. Wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled him in close. “I wasn’t really sleeping,” he said yawning. “Just resting my eyes, a bit, too worried about you.”

“The sounds coming out of your mouth sounded suspiciously like your usual snoring, but what do I know,” Draco teased as he tucked in and laid one arm and one leg over Harry.

“Do you want to talk about what she said?” Harry asked.

“Nothing really to talk about. She took some blood and other fluids, from both of us. Ran her wand over us both a few times, getting some information. Wrote down a lot of stuff and told me she’d let me know in a day or two. She also reconfirmed some things I already knew. Now I just have to wait. Why she wanted to do all those on me as well, she didn’t say for sure, only something about transplants, which I didn’t even want to know about. She’s going to check Muggle and Magical interactions and compatibility. Fuck, but I’m tired,” he said and yawned.

“Don’t you feel better now that Hermione’s seen her, and talked to you and her both?" Draco heard Harry ask as he was almost asleep. Draco nodded and smiled into Harry’s chest, or intended to, he may have just fallen asleep. It had been a really long day. 

***

The morning sun was shining brightly into their room when Draco opened his eyes. His first thought was, as always of his mother, how could he have forgotten her and slept so late? Panicked, he leapt up. The door opened and Harry walked in carrying a tray loaded down with breakfast items, and a St Nicholas hat on his head. Draco remembered then, it was Christmas morning and Harry had been able to stay past the usual six am. His mother as well, had been up very late, and was most likely still asleep. He had checked her machine while Granger was still there, and all had been fine. 

Harry walked around to Draco’s side of the bed. He laid the tray down on the side table, reached over, pulled Draco to a sitting position, fluffed and added some pillows to behind Draco’s back and gently pushed him back. All without saying a word, he just grinned, and adjusted the hat that kept threatening to fall off, stopping to snog Draco after adding the pillows. He then got the tray and laid it on Draco’s lap.

The tray held all of Draco’s favourites that he’d forgotten. A fluffy cheese and chive omelette cooked to perfection, sausages with their skins crisp and crackling. Freshly ground and brewed coffee, with real cream; orange juice that had that just picked from the tree sweetness to it. There were also scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam. Where Harry had found both the fresh oranges and the clotted cream in the middle of winter, and on Christmas morning, Draco didn’t know, nor care. He just enjoyed eating it. 

As he ate, and Harry nibbled, they talked of their plans for the day. Harry was scheduled to have late breakfast with Andromeda and Teddy. A tradition the three of them had had since before Teddy could even walk. Later in the evening Harry would have Christmas dinner with the Weasley’s, a tradition that went back a lot further. 

Draco and his family had always had their own celebratory traditions at the holidays. Only how it would all play out this year with the changes that had occurred, he didn’t know. He did know that he would be keeping their Christmas celebration with Andromeda and Teddy. The family had been invited for the second year in a row to late tea; sadly Draco would be attending it alone this year. He’d find a way to make his apologies for neither of his parents being able to join them. The invitation they’d received that first time had come as such a surprise, his mother had worried over it for weeks, before she’d finally agreed to say yes.

They’d all had a lovely time; Draco had found Teddy to be a bright and inquisitive child, with an impulse to change his hair colour with every new colour that walked into the room. It had been a bit off putting when Teddy had first greeted them with black hair that went in every direction. At the time Draco hadn’t known that Teddy had spent the morning with Harry Potter. Eventually Teddy settled into a white blond colour with grey eyes, that he kept the rest of the visit, even up until it had been time for him to go to bed. Draco had felt oddly proud that Teddy had chosen to keep his colouring once he’d gone to bed. 

The tray at last cleared of all foods, Harry had taken it back to the kitchen. Draco snuggled back in bed, hoping Harry would join him. Only there wasn’t enough time. Harry had explained he needed to go home and get ready and that Teddy’s gifts were all at Grimmauld Place. “Oh, that reminds me. I saw Lucius just now. He’s got some paper and what looks like paint. He’s sitting on the living room carpet, painting you a picture.”

“He’s on the priceless Persian carpet?” Draco hurriedly sat up. 

Harry pushed him back down. “Relax, I put a protective spell on the ‘priceless Persian carpet’, as well as made all the paints non-permanent. It’s fine. He’s fine. You can relax for a few more moments.” Harry gazed hungrily at Draco, “Merlin, if you don’t’ look tempting, lying there like that,” he said and then shook his head and headed into the loo. 

_You’re not getting away that easily, Potter_ Draco thought, as he removed his pyjama bottoms, and lowered the duvet. Methodically, Draco stroked himself to full length and hardness, determined that Harry would stay. He’d not completely lost the ability to manipulate events in order to get his own way. 

“Harry,” he called. “Can you come here a moment. I need your help with something.”

When Harry came back into the room, toothbrush in his mouth, Draco made sure he was posed just right. Thumb and fingers of one hand gentle tweaking his nipples and the other hand caressing and stroking his cock. “I’ve a problem, only you can resolve,” he teased in his most seductive voice.

“Ah, fuck it,” Harry said, laughing and throwing the toothbrush to the side. He crawled up the bed to where Draco lay. “You’re such a vixen.”

“Vixen is a female term. I’m not a female.”

“No, that you’re not, you are most assuredly male. But whatever the masculine form of vixen is, that’s what you are.” 

Draco simply smirked and shifted so more of his pale skin was available for Harry to taste and devour, as he would. Soon Draco was squirming for more. 

Seeming to understand Draco’s unspoken order, Harry moved his mouth downward until he was above Draco’s nipples. Harry knew exactly how hard to bite, when to suck and when to gently caress with his tongue. With each touch of Harry’s mouth on him, Draco craved Harry’s mouth on his cock. 

Desperate for the release that he knew Harry could give him, Draco assertively guided Harry’s head between his legs. The feel of Harry’s tongue licking a swipe up Draco’s cock and the swirl of his tongue around its head had Draco arching up off the bed. Harry gently pressed him back down and held him with one hand on his hip. 

Harry’s mouth surrounded him, his tongue pressing hard against the vein, and then that same talented muscle twirled around the head again, and Harry sucked Draco back into his mouth. Harry’s eyes remained open, focused on Draco and his reactions, until the exquisite pleasure forced Draco’s own eyes to close. What Harry did or looked at after that, Draco couldn’t say. His release came soon after that.

Harry swallowed and continued to lick until the sensations was too strong and Draco gently pushed him away.

Harry looked up at Draco after he’d finished swallowing. A smear of Draco’s come still clung to the corner of Harry’s mouth. Draco pulled Harry towards him, catching that smear with his tongue; he kissed him, savouring the taste of himself on Harry’s tongue. 

Harry was grumbling about running so late, and how he’d have to spell his morning whiskers away, when he’d Floo’d out, but the smile on his face and the spring in his step lessened the sting of this words. Draco stretched lazily, feeling like the cat that ate the cream, and watched him go. 

***  
Draco had contemplated staying in bed for a while after Harry had left, reliving the feeling of Harry inside him. But it just wasn’t possible. Lucius would be up soon; Draco needed to be up and ready. He’d barely finished dressing, and was set to enjoy his second cup of tea. About to add the cream, when Conrad appeared at the bedroom door, and announced, “Mrs Pansy Parkinson-Nott wishes to wish you many returns of the season.” 

“At this hour of the morning?” Draco questioned, surprised. “Not now Conrad. Tell her I’m --” 

“Conrad will tell me nothing," Pansy’s voice interrupted him as she strolled into the room. Arriving at his side, she leaned up on her toes and bussed both corners of his mouth, and said over her shoulder. “That’ll be all. Thank you Conrad.” 

“Well. Pansy. How delightful to see you. Won’t you come in? Oh my, will you look at that. You’re already in.” Draco frowned and turned away from her. _Fuck!_ This wasn’t good. Lucius was always at his worst in the mornings. Especially when he’d not had the proper amount of sleep. Interestingly, the changes brought about by the potion required Lucius to obtain the number of hours of sleep someone of that mental age would require. The result being that without at least eight, preferably nine or ten hours of sleep, Lucius got very cranky. 

“This is not a good time, Pansy. The holidays are a trying time, and situations here at home require a great deal of my attention.” 

“But I’ve not seen or heard from you in months,” Pansy pouted. “How are you? Your family?” 

“Yes. Well. Mother hasn’t been feeling well. I’ve been busy. I’ve not noticed you knocking our door down, or wearing out the floo coming to see me either.” _Not that I would have been able to let you in, but still…_

Pansy was quiet for so long Draco became concerned. He looked closer at her. She was biting her lips and tears were welling in her eyes. _Oh fuck! She and Nott are breaking up. I always knew that was a disaster just waiting to happen._ Draco panicked; he couldn’t deal with a Parkinson emotional break-down, not now.

He started to say something; what he didn’t know, when-- _Fucking! Fucking, Fuck. Fuck! Why now?_ Lucius came running into the room. His hair was all over the place sticking up in weird angles, his face red and marked on one side when he’d evidently slept pressed too hard against the pillow. He wore only a shirt and his pants. His long, outrageously bony legs were completely bare. The scars from the various Cruciatus curses, hexes from the Dark Lord and general mistreatment he’d received in Azkaban marked them like some roadmap that had been crumpled, and then attempted to lay flat again with just the press of the hands. There were no trousers anywhere in sight, until Conrad came scrambling in after him, the trousers in his hand.

“Father,” Lucius queried. He’d started calling Draco ‘father’ a few months previous, confusing Draco for the deceased Abraxus. “Conrad won’t let me wear my short trousers today, and I want to. He said it was too cold. It’s not too cold _inside!_ , I promise I won’t go outside. He wants me to wear fussy old robes. I don’t want to wear robes. I want to wear these!” he held up a pair of the most ridiculous looking short trousers Draco had ever seen. They looked like something Dumbledore would have worn when he was a young lad. Lime green, they were covered with pink and purple hippogriffs, and way too many pockets. 

“I made them myself. Well, I put the colour and the hippogriffs on them. I used my magic, with my wand. They’re great aren’t they?” As Lucius’s magic still registered with the Ministry as adult, Draco at least did not have to be concerned about sudden and frequent Howlers regarding use of underage magic. 

“They’re… they’re something alright; not sure if great is the word I’d use. But Conrad is right; it is too cold for--”

“Draco?” Pansy’s voice was hushed and hesitant.

Lucius spun around at the voice and then leaned in close to Draco. “Who’s that? Did she come to play with me? I’d like it if she did; we could have fun.” Lucius leaned back towards Pansy and squinched his face to peer closer at her. “Why is she crying?” he asked. “Did she hurt herself?”

“Crying? She’s not--” Draco took his eyes away from Lucius and looked at Pansy again. But she was; tears were streaming down Pansy’s face. She whispered over and over, “She’s not alone. My mother’s not the only one. She’s not the only one. Thank Merlin. My mother’s not alone. She’s not the only one.” 

***

It was late when Harry returned that evening. Both of them fairly worn out from their responsibilities of the day, as well as the late nights and early mornings they’d had recently. They’d retired early and had lain in bed talking of their day’s activities. Harry kept smiling to himself, and whenever Draco had asked what the fuck he was smiling about, Harry had just said, “Patience. You’ll find out in the morning.”

Luckily, for Harry, he’d distracted Draco from worrying thoughts about what Harry was up to, by skilled use of hands and lips. When Draco was sure he could take no more, Harry had rolled over, his head on the pillow and his arse in the air, and begged for Draco to, “Please, just fuck me.” Draco seldom could find it in his heart to say no to Harry; not when he asked so nicely. 

He woke some three hours later to find Harry propped up on one elbow, staring at him with a smile on his face. “Ginny gave me a present to give to you today,” Harry said. “Now, she doesn’t know that it was _you_ that’s the recipient. She may have a guess, but as I’ve never told her where I go every night. She doesn’t know for sure.”

“Quit babbling, Potter, and give me the present. Where is it? In your robes?”

Draco rolled over from where he’d been curled against Harry and started to climb out of bed. Harry’s gaze heated his skin, as Draco placed a foot on the floor. Harry snatched his hand and pulled him back on to the bed. “No, the present is not in my robes. Matter of fact it’s not anywhere outside of this bed.”

Puzzled, Draco turned back. “Harry, there is nothing on this bed but us, and as I was just pretty fucking intimate with all of your possible hidey-holes I can promise you it’s not there. And I know for a fact, I don’t have it.” 

As he joked, Draco’s mind began to wonder. Why would Ginny Weasley give him a present? That made no sense. Draco tried to hide it from Harry and though he knew he had no reason to be, he was still viciously jealous of her. She and Harry were over, he knew. Although Harry was with him now, he couldn’t help but still worry. Harry and Ginny had a history, a long and close friendship. Plus there was Weasley, who Draco knew, still held out hope that one day Harry and his sister would get back together. 

There’d even been a brief falling out of sorts when Ron discovered Harry was spending his nights away from Ginny, though it had been her that had threatened Ron with one of her infamous Bat-Bogey Hexes, if he didn’t leave off. But first and foremost the reason for Draco’s continued jealousy was that Harry and Ginny had continued to share the domicile of No 12 Grimmauld Place. 

“Draco? You okay, what happened to all the excitement? Don’t you want your present? I’ve got it right here.”

Draco turned his head back towards Harry. “Potter, you’re lying there naked as the day you were born. Probably, more so, as I’m pretty sure you were probably born wearing those glasses.” Harry’s glasses currently lay on the night stand. 

“She’s moving out.” Harry said quietly, his gaze fixed on Draco, studying him for his reaction. 

It was instantaneous. Draco snapped his head up to look at Harry. “What did you say? Who?” Could it be true, Ginny was finally moving out? Harry had explained that it was just more convenient for the both of them whenever Draco had brought it up. Ginny hadn’t wanted to face the many questions from her family; the two of them sharing the same address kept them quiet. It didn’t mean anything. 

“Gin. She’s moving out. Moving in with a friend of hers. She didn’t tell me who it was, but like her I have my suspicions. Well, I don’t know who, but I do know the sex. And it isn’t mine.”

“Really, Ginny’s seeing another woman?” He started to say something else, something crass and uncool, but knew Harry would get all noble with him about it and start a possible fight, and Draco was in no mood to fight. 

“Either that or she’s been having a lot of sleepovers with friends. I’ve found various signs of female occupancy when I’ve gone in to take my shower. Ones that I know aren’t Ginny’s.”

“She’s really moving out? You’re not teasing me?”

“Nope, not teasing. She’ll be gone by the time I get home. I take it the present makes you happy?”

“It makes me more than happy.” Now that Ginny was leaving, Draco could admit to his feelings, though even now it was hard. “You know, I was really jealous of her still living with you.”

“I know,” Harry said softly. “There was no need though. It’s you I want.”

“You know? Really?” Draco sniffed in vexation. He’d been so careful to try to keep it hidden. Leave it to Harry, to be able to read his every thought. “Well, doesn’t matter now. I no longer have to worry about her climbing into the shower with you, all soft and curvy.” 

“Curves aren’t what I’m interested in.” Harry laughed and grabbed at Draco to pull him back down. 

“What the fuck, Draco? What are you doing? Trying to kill me?” Harry asked, as well he might. Draco had just tried to reach across him to open the drawer of the night stand; only he wasn’t close enough. When he tried to stretch a bit further, and hold himself up with just one hand so he could reach with the drawer pull, he failed and fell on top of Harry’s face. Frustrated, he climbed over Harry, opened the drawer and reached for the lube he’d tossed in a few hours earlier. Of course it had shifted towards the back making him stretch even further, leaving his cock to dangle in front of Harry’s face. Harry, needless to say, took this as an open invitation to run his tongue around the head a few times before sucking it into his mouth. 

Almost distracted from his goal, so excellent were Harry’s blowjobs, but Draco had something else in mind. He crawled back off of Harry, stopping only long enough to kiss Harry breathless, lifted himself up on his knees, squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, and reached behind, searching for his entrance, never losing contact with Harry’s gaze. 

Harry’s eyes grew dark with desire, as Draco slowly fucked himself on his finger, and then two, stretching himself open for Harry. Loosened, he crawled up Harry’s legs and straddled them. Harry’s cock in hand, Draco lined it up with his lubed and stretched hole, and sank slowly down on to it, inch by agonizingly slow inch. 

Fuck, but Harry’s cock in him felt so good; he’d forgotten how grand it felt to have a cock deep inside him. He closed his eyes and rocked down until he could feel Harry’s balls against his arse cheeks. “You still want to know what I’m doing?” Draco asked to which Harry replied with a gasp, “No. No I’m good. I think I understand. Only… Only… can I move now? I didn’t want to move too much or too soon. Only, fuck, you’re killing me here.”

“It may be your cock in my arse, but I’m the one on top. I get to decide when and how much to move. I’m going to ride you like you’ve never been ridden, so just lean back Auror boy, and hang on. I’m about to thank you for Ginny’s gift. And no you may not share this thank you with her.” 

Harry snorted in laughter with a ‘ride ‘em cowboy’, and then let out a long moan of pleasure as Draco lifted up almost to the very edge of pulling off Harry’s cock and slid back down, repeating this action again and again, up and down, each time to the very edge of sanity and back filling himself. Harry’s hands shot out, one clenched Draco’s hip, steadying and guiding but never attempting to hold him back. The other wrapped itself strong around Draco’s cock and stroked and pulled in time to Draco’s movements. Harry’s face became a mask of concentration and bliss, then the tension gave way to relief of release and Draco’s hole was filled with Harry’s come. Harry’s hand never stopped, moving faster and surer in just the way he knew drove Draco to the brink. The heat rising and rolling in the depths of his belly, Draco could last no longer. Streams of creamy white liberally sprinkled across Harry’s stomach. 

Sated and satisfied, Draco collapsed on top of Harry. Harry’s arms pulled him close. Tighter and tighter, each caress a promise of never letting him go. “Move in with me,” Harry whispered in his ear. “Now, that Ginny is moving out, there’s plenty of room. I want you with me all the time.” 

“What? Are you mental? You know I can’t. What am I supposed to do with my parents? Did I literally just fuck your brain out through your cock? You’re talking nonsense.”

“I am feeling pretty witless about now. It was just a thought, spoken in the throes of passion.” 

“I can appreciate that, but clearly you weren’t thinking.” Draco sighed and snuggled even closer on top of Harry’s chest. _“But you could move in here. There’s plenty of room, Mother likes you, she’s always asking about you. And Lucius—well, he’d get used you being here._.” Draco stopped his wild dreaming; the reality of his situation struck him like a blow.

If things continued as they had, he had maybe one more month before his father de-aged into an infant. What happened after that Draco could not begin to comprehend. The potion had de-aged his father approximately four years every month. Lucius was now five, in another month he would be one. Then what? And his mother? Well, fuck. One day the machine would no longer do its job. She could go into renal failure and die any moment, unless Hermione found the answer. She had to, there was no other choice. Once his mother was okay and stable again, he’d ask Harry. 

***

“Draco. I’m…” Hermione’s expression said it all. She didn’t need to say anything else.

“You’re going to tell me, you can’t help, aren’t you?”

“I’m so sorry. I just don’t see any way we can. She requires a transplant, that’s it. But her magic is going to fight against any possible candidate we might find. They may match up blood type and tissue wise, but the only possible match magic wise is you. You’re not the same blood type, we’ve already tested it. If we try a transplant with an incompatible kidney, her body will reject it and death will be the result. It won’t be a pleasant death either.”

“So, she’s going to die either way, slow and uncomfortable, or quick and horribly painful? Then why did you bother to come? What the fuck good are you and your offers to help?”

“Oh, Draco, I’m so very sorry. I wish…” He heard Harry say, heard him try to apologise. Draco was having none of it. This was all Harry’s-- no not Harry’s-- Potter’s fault. 

“Potter,” Draco let every ounce of disdain and hatred he’d ever felt for Harry Potter into his voice. “Get the fuck out of my house. Now, and never darken these hallways again.”

“What? Draco, why?” Harry’s confusion and hurt was so blatant, Draco wasn’t sure if he would sick up or laugh, or cry. _Gods no, he wouldn’t cry in front of Harry_. He had to harden his heart to Harry. Potter had just broken Draco’s, he deserved nothing more. Draco felt the inability to swallow, the lump in his throat growing and growing. Tears prickled at the back of his eyes; he blinked them rapidly away.

“But Draco, Harry had nothing to do with it. He’s not the one to blame.” Granger’s voice laced with reason cut through Draco’s anguish. The last thing he wanted was reason.

“He’s the one that gave me hope, made me believe that the great and brilliant Granger, the one with all the answers, could save my mother. Don’t you know, giving someone false hope is about the worst thing you can do?” Draco knew he was being irrational. He couldn’t help it. Harry and Granger had made him think there might be an answer to his mother’s illness. Only there wasn’t and now he knew. She was going to die, and there was not a fucking thing he or they or anyone could do about it.

Crushed, Draco turned to Harry. “I’m serious Potter, leave. I can’t bear to see your face anymore.” And then he walked away to stand beside the large bay window that looked out over the long walkway from the front gate. 

He could feel Harry’s eyes on him, but Draco refused to turn back. Lost in his own despair, he barely heard Harry’s goodbye to Hermione, or Hermione’s reassurance to Draco that as Narcissa’s Healer, it was her responsibility to be the one to give the news to Narcissa. Part of him knew he should go with her, but he was too numb with grief to move. 

He’d no idea how long he stood there. Briefly recalled Granger coming in to tell him, she had spoken to his mother, and Narcissa was handling the news like a trooper. He’d wondered what the fuck a trooper was, and if it was a good or bad thing. 

Then Lucius had tripped chasing after one of the peafowls and skinned his knee. Draco had spelled the cut closed, added an extra infection prevention, gave Lucius an ice lolly and read him his favourite story from Tales of Beedle the Bard: _Babbitty, Rabbitty And Her Cackling Stump_. When Draco was a small boy, his mother had gone over his father’s wishes, and brought a copy of the childhood stories into their home. It was this copy he now used to soothe his father.

The rest of the day progressed in much the same way as every day. Draco checked on his mother periodically, kept half an eye and ear open for Lucius, checked on the status of their accounts and investments, and went over grocery needs with Conrad, etc. Only, for the first time in over three months, Draco had nothing to look forward to, but his cold and empty bed. 

***

“Make mine a brandy, if you don’t mind.”

Draco whirled. “Harry? You’re here!” 

“Where else would I be? It’s after eleven; I’m always here by this time.” Harry strode towards Draco, his usual, I’m so happy to see you, smile on his face.

“I was so afraid. I told you to get out and stay out. Oh Harry, I’ve been so worried, that you’d think I meant it.” 

Harry took Draco into his arms and kissed him, long and thoroughly, every bit of love and passion Draco thought he had lost in that kiss.

“It’s going to take a lot more than an appearance from Drama-Queen Draco, to keep me away. You should know by now, what a stubborn, pig-headed prat I can be.” Harry kissed him again and again, on the cheek, the jaw, the chin, the corners of Draco’s mouth, anywhere he could reach. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“You do realise don’t you, that when I call you prat; it’s abbreviated from ‘pig-headed prat’.” Draco teased, filled with relief that Harry had returned. 

“I thought it might be,” nodded Harry with a smile. 

Across from the balcony was a large fireplace. Harry’s wand soon had a small blaze burning, while Draco finished pouring their drinks. Once their beverages were poured, they curled up on a small sofa together.

Moments later, Harry asked if he had sent Conrad to the off license, or if there was a case of it hidden away somewhere.

“My father had a standing order, when he got down to less than four bottles, another case would be ordered automatically. The one I tried to smash against your head, yesterday, put us at four. Draco paused and then turned to look Harry directly in the eye. “Another case arrived just this evening. The bottle I threw against the fireplace after I realised what an idiot I had been left our balance under four. Harry, I am sorry about yesterday, you know. It was… I was… distraught.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just know that I will always be here for you.. Whenever you need me, even if you don’t realise you need me, I’ll be here.” 

“How was Narcissa today?” Harry looked at him questioningly; as he adjusted his position for Draco to fit more comfortably in his arms. “I know Hermione explained everything to her, but how did she take the news?” 

Draco shrugged. “As well as could be expected, actually she took it better than I did. She’s been reading old love letters from my father, and some of the letters I sent home my first few years at Hogwarts. She informed me that one theme seemed to dominate most of them.”

“Oh, and what would that be?” Harry teased, his look telling Draco, he knew exactly what the theme of those letters had been.”

“The _How much I hate Harry Potter, let me count the ways,_ theme.” 

“A most apt theme, I’ve been led to understand. Of course it has nothing on my constant rants to Hermione and Ron regarding, _What a complete and total wanker that Draco Malfoy is_ ”. 

They remained quiet after that, enjoying the feel of the other, warm and loving next to them, the comforting heat of the fire adding to the overall peace of the moment. They talked of this and that as they sipped their drinks. Of what they’d had for lunch, how badly Hermione felt about the news she’d had to deliver, what inane comments Ron, Harry’s partner, may have said during the course of the day, Lucius’s newest outrageous behaviour. It was their time to relax and unwind, to release the cares of the day. 

Draco’s eyes began to drift closed, the scotch lulling him towards sleep. He’d hardly slept a wink the night before. Not after Hermione’s visit and his subsequent attack of idiocy. Sleep was the last thing he wanted; his time with Harry already too short. Struggling to fight against it, he sat up and turned towards Harry. “So tell me more about your day.” 

“Later. I’ve a better idea. It’s guaranteed to keep you awake; unlike listening to my boring stories of Auror duties, which mostly entailed lots of fascinating paper work today.” Unexpectedly the sound of a single saxophone wafted into his room. It was Draco’s favourite, an instrumental version of _Cauldron of Hot, Strong Love_.

Harry stood and bowed, putting his hand out for Draco, “May I have this dance?” He stood and allowed himself to be swept up in Harry’s arms. Harry was a surprisingly graceful dancer, but not such a wonderful singer. Draco tried to control it, he really did, but his laugher escaped as Harry’s horrible and completely tone deaf, yet incredible romantic, voice sang the words of the song in his ear. 

Harry pulled away with a pout. “I’m trying to romance you and you’re laughing at me. I think I’m hurt.”

“Harry, you already have me. There’s no need to romance me, but I love you even more for it.”

“You love me?” Harry’s face lit up like it had the first time, and every subsequent time, he’d caught the snitch. Pure joy suffused it. 

“I think so. Yes. How about you?” he asked shyly, terrified that he may have misread the signs.

“Umm, I don’t think so.” Harry shook his head, and Draco’s heart began its tumble to the floor, only Harry caught it before it had a chance to fall far. 

“I know so. I love you, Draco Malfoy. I’ve known for a while, but I was afraid to say. Afraid it was too soon, afraid I’d push you away. I think I’ve loved you since the first time I watched you with your father. Saw the genuine love and concern and patience you had with him.” With that he enveloped Draco back into his arms and danced him out onto the balcony. A three quarters moon shone through the bare-branched skeletons of the trees, reflecting on the snow that still lingered in drifts among the trees. The night was stunningly beautiful, and Harry was still by his side. 

As they waltzed around the balcony, Harry continuing to sing off key in his ear, lights began to twinkle on and off amongst the trees scattered around the grounds. One by one, fairy lights would flicker on and then off, on and off, until the whole area was awash with the flickering of lights. 

The saxophone was joined by other instruments, clarinet, trumpet, flute, French horns; the stringed instruments, violins, violas, cello, pianos and the various percussion instruments. The music of a full symphony orchestra could be heard. Along with the lights and the music were tables covered with food and beverages to feed many. Conrad and Kreacher stood side by side at the table ready to dispense, also dressed for the occasion. Kreacher wore a gold braided belt and Conrad’s arms sported silver arm bands. Both of which kept falling off him whenever he lowered his arms. Draco suspected Conrad would spend as much time picking the arm bands up off the ground, as he would serving. 

“Harry? What is this?” Draco was almost too stunned to ask. What had Harry done, and when? Not only had Harry come back to him, but he’d done this as well. It had to have been him. No one else would have or could have.

“Since you couldn’t, or at least wouldn’t attend the Winter Ball, I thought it would be nice if we had one here. It can be just the two of us, if that’s what you want. There are others though, ready to Apparate in and celebrate with you. Ones I trust to keep your secrets, or ones that already know. Some even share that same secret. Whenever and whomever you want.” 

Harry held up a handful of Galleons, each with an image of a different couple, or individual. “You simply press the center and it will send them the message; as well as reveal the coordinates to the manor. All that’s required is for you to invite them.” 

“I…I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. But I suggest if we’re going to be celebrating a Winter Ball, more appropriate attire is called for. We should go back to your suite and change.” Harry took his hand and led him back inside. Two beautiful suits lay across the end of Draco’s bed. Both made of soft Italian wool. One was deep midnight blue, with shots of silver thread in the material, and with it a shirt of purest white silk, but no tie. The shirt made in such a way, that a tie would have just been redundant. The other was a rich forest green; copper was its accent colour. The matching shirt was cream coloured linen, and an ascot of deep mahogany brown, and the same copper threads that were in the suit. They were exquisite. 

Draco was out of his clothes and in the shower before Harry had a chance to ask if he liked them or not. Of course he liked them. He couldn’t wait to put his own, but before he did, every inch of him had to be shampooed, cleaned, and loofahed. 

The shower may have taken a bit longer than strictly necessary as Harry not only insisted on joining Draco; he also advocated he should be the one to shampoo Draco’s hair. Harry sensuously massaged the lather into his scalp and his hands following the flow of the soapy water as it streamed down Draco’s chest and abdomen to run down his legs and onto the shower floor. 

Harry’s hands roamed up and down Draco’s upper body, rubbing the suds into his skin, bringing his nipples to hard peaks. He leaned in and kissed him sure and slow; pressed Draco’s back up against the shower wall. Harry’s lips hard against his, his tongue advancing and retreating, demanding Draco’s to follow. Harry’s body flushed against his, lips to lips, chest to chest, his hand moved between them to Draco’s cock. His thumb scraped across the head of Draco’s cock; Harry’s strokes, firm and confident, pulling and tugging; the pressure of Harry’s hand against his balls, almost painful, but fucking bliss instead, and Draco’s head rocked back against the shower wall. 

The kiss may have broken but Harry continued his relentless invasion of Draco’s sanity. Never stopping his hand or his mouth as it constantly licked, and kissed, and sucked, and bit at Draco’s neck and shoulder. The steam from the shower blurring his vision, and Harry’s hand blurring his brain, Draco let go of it all, except how good it all felt. Without being fully aware of how close he was, he came and came. 

The water continued to cascade down them, Draco at last opened his eyes. Greeting him was Harry with his puffed up chest and air of ‘look what I just did’ about him. Draco’s need to consume Harry through his mouth and lips was strong; he had no choice but to retaliate. Quickly he shifted their positions. This time Harry was against the wall, and Draco was on his knees, sucking Harry’s cock into his mouth. Seconds later, the salty vinegary taste of Harry’s come was flooding his mouth. Harry collapsed to the floor beside Draco, gathering him in his arms, when finished. 

***

“Now, don’t worry,” Harry said once they’d started to dress, “If you don’t like them, I’m sure Lucius would be glad to design some for us. These might be a bit tame.” 

Draco looked over at him in horror. He had included the short trousers incident when he’d told Harry about Pansy’s visit. Harry’s face was crinkled with laugher and love. Such love, it made Draco’s heart ache with the fullness of it. “Prat,” he grumbled, “that’s not funny.”

Harry’s answer was to pull him into his arms and kiss him until Draco’s knees were weak, and he was tempted to forgo the Ball and simply take Harry to bed. Only Harry had gone to such trouble, and the last thing Draco wanted to do was not show his appreciation. “Come on, let’s get dressed. I can’t wait to see you in this. The alternative has possibilities as well, though.” 

Once they were completely dressed, except for shoes, Harry revealed their foot-wear for the evening. The battered and well-loved trainers for Harry; and Draco’s worn, but exceeding comfortable and much loved slippers for Draco. Harry’s explanation had been, “If we’re going to be dancing all night, and I intend that we will, our feet should be comfortable.” It was so Harry, Draco could find no argument with it.

For the first hour, it was just them and Draco’s parents. Narcissa had explained that even though the news the lovely Ms Granger-Weasley had brought was not what she had hoped, she was not surprised by it. It was good to know the truth; she was at peace. There was nothing better she could think of than to watch her son and his beau dance under the stars and fairy lights on a beautiful winter’s night. Draco set her up on a chaise with a blanket and a small glass of champagne. 

Lucius was there as well, dressed in his favourite lime green with pink and purple hippogriff covered short trousers with a Slytherin jumper and tie. Undoubtedly the most hideous combination, Draco had ever seen. Only he could think of absolutely no legitimate reason not to allow it. Lucius ate too many sweets, and spent most of his time chasing the peafowl around the grounds; Prometheus his favourite target. Harry and Draco both laughed when Lucius made the mistake of catching one, and then became quite incensed when it retaliated by biting him. 

“I told you those things were lethal,” Harry joked. 

“I’ll have to learn to listen to you. Oh Harry, I wanted to--” Draco began.

Only to be interrupted by Harry’s, “Draco, we know--”

Both chuckled and offered to let the other speak first, Harry a bit more insistently.

“I just wanted to let you know, that Pansy came by again today. She’s found a few more people whose parents were affected. They’re going to help with the antidote research. With all of us working together, I think we might have a chance. I can’t believe we were all too embarrassed to let others know what we were going through. Just think how much time we may have wasted.”

“That’s wonderful, Draco. I have news regarding that as well. We know who it was.”

“Really, who?” Draco was suddenly all ears.

“Dennis Creevey. Colin’s younger brother. Colin’s death was something he never really got over, he swore vengeance to those who had caused it. Luckily, he only worked for the Wheezes for a couple of weeks. Even so, during that time we estimate he altered at least half of the twenty-five bottles of the _Fountain of Youth_ potions, destroying a large number of families’ lives.” 

“How did he keep others, besides Death-Eaters from buying them? Oh, wait, he didn’t. Neither Anthony Goldstein’s or Zacharias Smith’s family are Slytherin and their families were also affected.” 

“He altered them and left them on the shelves with all the others, figuring, and it turned out rightfully so, that most of the buyers of such a potion would be Slytherin. George put them on sale as a last minute bargain, at half price they flew off the shelves.” 

“So we really are a vain and frugal bunch,” Draco said with a teasing smirk.

“You said it, not me.” Harry threw up his hands in a show of denial. 

And one by one, Draco took the Galleons from Harry’s pocket and pressed them, inviting others to join them. And with each press of the Galleons, Harry gave him a kiss for courage and encouragement. One by one their guests appeared on the lawn. Hermione and Weasley, Pansy and Theodore, Draco’s ex fiancée, Astoria, and Blaise, Greg and Marcus Flint, George and Angelina, Bill Weasley and Fleur, all the Weasleys, even Molly and Arthur. 

Andromeda and Teddy, who was very cranky at having been wakened after only being in bed a few hours had come as well. Teddy had taken one look at Narcissa on the lounge and had crawled up next to the “pretty lady”, and promptly fell asleep, while she and his grandmother spent the evening talking. Narcissa had threatened the use of an unforgivable to anyone who tried to shift him, including her own son. His mother was more animated than he’d seen her in such a long time. She fairly glowed with vitality. He knew tonight would take its toll on her, only what else could he do. He wasn’t about to deny her this.

Lucius, tired, over excited and jealous of Teddy curled up next to Narcissa had tried to push him off. Narcissa had simply enlarged the chaise she was resting on and had told Lucius he could come lay on the other side. All three of them fit comfortably. It couldn’t be easy for her, knowing your husband, the man through all his faults had once brought you such love and pleasure, was now mentally the same age as your sister’s grandson. Yet Draco’s mother, even now, continued to look at his father with complete love and devotion.

Draco’s eyes filled with tears. How could he lose her?

Harry’s hand gripped his and held it tight. “Don’t give up Draco. Hermione will find a way.”

“She said there was nothing she could do.”

“Oh Draco, she may have said it, but if you thought she was done, you don’t know Hermione very well. She never gives up. Especially when it affects someone she loves. This affects you; I love you, so therefore it affects me. I can promise you, even now she’s thinking about it.” Harry nodded his head in Hermione’s direction. “Look at her.” 

Hermione was indeed standing next to Ron, clearly not listening to him. Her eyes on Draco’s mother, that questing look on her face.

“Give her time Draco. She’ll think of something and if that doesn’t work, she’ll keep trying until she finds the answer.”

“We don’t have that much time.” 

The last to arrive was Ginny Weasley, though Draco had been very diplomatic, her invitation having been among the first. She and Cho Chang appeared out of the darkness together, arm in arm. Harry’s surprised and somewhat mortified expression when he saw them together was one Draco knew he would hold in his memory to enjoy over and over for many years to come. 

Draco made his decision then. His mother may never be well and stable again, and Merlin only knew what was going to ultimately happen with his father, but there was no reason why Draco had to bear it all alone.

“Harry?” Draco stopped him with a hand to Harry’s elbow.

“Yes?”

“Remember when you asked me to move in with you?”

“You mean, when you shot me down. Said it was a completely mental idea. Yeah I have some recollection of that.” Harry’s smile was true; he held no anger inside him.

“Well, it was. But your moving in here with me is not. You practically live here anyway. Mother loves you. What do you say?”

“You mean I’d get to eat breakfast with you every morning, and dinner every night? I’d get to have late weekend lie-ins and take long, steaming hot showers with you. Watch you while you groomed your hair to perfection, completed elaborate and complicated shaving rituals? Observe you trimming your nails in the evenings? And on the weekends, I can laugh as you stuff your face with popcorn, butter dripping down your arm while we watch the reruns of _Queer as Folk_ together?” 

“Yes, yes. You’d get to do all that.” Draco laughed out loud.

“And I can be here with you to help feed and bathe Lucius, if you don’t find the right antidote in time? And I get to help you take care of Narcissa, and be here to hold you when things are about at an end?” Harry was no longer smiling, but the love that Draco saw more than made up for it. 

“Yes, that too,” Draco said quietly. 

“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do. Yes. The answer is yes.” 

It was near dawn when the last of their guests had finally left. Teddy and Lucius had both been taken to bed an hour or two before, as well as Narcissa. It had been a great success. The news that Harry would be moving in to the manor, had been met with resounding approval. 

Alone at last, they had stood on Draco’s balcony, still in their formal clothes, although Harry had loosened his tie and both their suit coats were unbuttoned. Together they watched the sun rise over Wiltshire and made their plans for when Harry would begin to move his stuff in. Grimmauld Place would be turned into a resource center and lab for the continued study for the antidote for the _Fountain of Youth_ potion. 

At last they had gone to bed. Sleep had barely claimed them when they were woken by Hermione’s excited fire-calling.

“Harry, Draco! Malfoy, Harry! Please wake up! I’ve found it! I think I know what the answer is. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. The whole time we were there last night and I was watching them and thinking how lovely they were there together, and--” Hermione stopped just long enough to take a short breath. Draco was exhausted just listening to her. He really wished she’d get to the point; it had been a long day. “I should have thought of it then, but the night was just so lovely and it was so good to see you two together and how happy and in love you looked and when you told--” 

“Hermione!” Harry shouted finally, interrupting the torrent. “What did you find? What’s the answer to what?”

“Now, I don’t know for sure. She’ll have to be tested and it may not—“

“For fuck’s sake Granger,” Draco half snarled with exhaustion and frustration. “Would you please just get to the point? Your inane babbling is driving me mental.” 

“It’s Andromeda. I think she might be the answer. Can I come through?"

The end.


End file.
